


Somewhere over the rainbow

by Pandigital



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Aveline is a bad-ass, F/M, Forced Abortion, Forced Pregnancy, Forced Prostitution, I'm Sorry, Mental Breakdown, Multi, Orana ain't got time for any of your shit, Protective Fenris, Rape Recovery, Rape/Non-con Elements, Varric is the best
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-22
Updated: 2015-12-13
Packaged: 2018-04-22 20:31:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 10
Words: 15,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4849526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pandigital/pseuds/Pandigital
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She might have been the Champion of Kirkwall, but she was still human.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Life in a rose colored hue

**Author's Note:**

> I have read WAY too many Tranquil Hawke works. A just too much schoop this past week. So please, I am so sorry for this. I don't even how to begin to apologize for this.

Fenris never stops dreading the night(or the three months in general) that everything happened to them. It starts when Hawke is walking with him back to Danarius’ mansion, her face pale and sickly. A woman with skin like his should never look so pale, but he knows better than to voice his worries aloud to her. So he waits instead, close by should she need him, for she has always found actions to speak better and louder than words. They speak of things that their small group had been doing since her battle with the Arishok. Her stomach had been wrapped and healed as best as it could be. Anders had said to give it time, but that it would scar.

Hawke had protested being laid up in bed, but had been too weak to do more than that.

This was the first night in almost three weeks that she could limp around without her knees failing her. Orana hovers behind them, the great Mabari hound—Jasper—held by the smaller elf with a thick rope and the promise of food should he behave. It starts when Hawke gives a low grunt and stops to lean against a pillar, wrapping her arms around her stomach and gritting her teeth. Orana flutters like a bird and he keeps a firm hold on her shoulder. She shoos him away.

“I’m ok. I’m fine. It just twisted my side weird is all.” As she turns gingerly to speak to Orana her brown eyes grow large and Fenris turns to see what has caught her attention. Orana is shoved aside, Jasper given a snapped order to protect her and then Hawke and the blood mage clash with magic that send his skin into a harsh tingle. Raw magic flung from tan hands and staffed magic to summon demons. Fenris charges at them with his knife, for he had left his sword at the mansion, never thinking that he would need it when Hawke could barely move past her front door.  

Hawke is still a powerful mage, but her wound is not healed so easily, her body still mortal and fraile. Even magic has its limits. As he turns to cut down another demon of desire, Orana gives out a sharp cry of, “Mistress!” and he turns. One blood mage has his staff pinned against Hawke throat, her body still using the pillar for support. Her body weak and her magic low, she is losing the fight. Fenris can feel his mind go blank with rage. Until his body is seized up by pain.

They use the lyrium to bring him down. His vision is going dark as he watches Orana and Jasper flea—the smart girl screaming for Aveline and the guard, Jasper defending her as she flees—and Hawke falling to the ground. Her thin dress stained with blood in the middle, as her wound has re-opened; one of the hooded blood mages kicks her in the stomach and the stain spreads. A staff comes down harshly onto his temple and he knows no more. When he awakens, he is naked, save for his under clothing. In a cage in dimly lit room with shackles on his feet. Across from him, Hawke is hanging by her wrist from the ceiling. They are using the red ribbon he had taken from her.

She is still bleeding, and a new bruise mars her throat. He can hear others in another room, speaking in Arcanum. Slavers. He stands and hits his head. He scowls as he gets to his knees and shuffles toward Hawke. He calls her name and she doesn’t answer. He tries again, a little louder than he whisper he used, and still her head hangs while her stomach bleeds.

Before he has a chance to call her name again, a door opens. His heart stops.

“Hello, my little wolf.”

“Danarius.” he growls, his marking flaring to life. A wave of that vile hand and they burn like fire through his veins. He gives a hoarse cry and bends until his head is touching the floor. He hears Danarius chuckle.

“That is how you should always look when speaking to me pet. Unlike your new master, I will not tolerate that irritate tongue of yours.”

Fenris pushes past the pain to glare at Danarius from under his bangs, “I am no slave! You are not my master!”

“Oh, Fenris.” he sighs and moves towards Hawke, trailing his fingers over her stomach wound. Fenris can feel the pain in his bones, the lyrium all but drained, and he desperately wants to move between this vile man and Hawke. Danarius moves in a slow circle, wrapping a collar like how the Qunari use of their mages around her neck, and then he continues until he comes to stand between Fenris and Hawke. He shakes his head sadly, “When I first made you, stealing your memories kept you in line.”

“I have my memories.”

“And a new weakness.”

“Liar.”

Danarius gives him a smile, “No. You lie to yourself. I could never tame you like how the great... Champion of Kirkwall has. One night with her and you follow after her like a dog with a shiny red collar. No amount of blood magic, or torture, or evenings in my bed ever made you look at me like how you do her.”

“I am a free man.”

“So then...she means nothing to you?”

Fenris bites his tongue before the truth can slither out. He glares instead, “She is a mage.”

“Yes. She is.”

“Let her go. This is between us.”

Danarius laughs loudly in his face, and Fenris can hear Hawke waking up. A hiss of breath drawn between teeth. He feels dread settle like a lead weight in his stomach. Danarius turns to her and claps his hands to speed up her awakening. He speaks with jovial amusement when she lifts her head to stare at them both, “Lady Hawke! I am so glad you finally awakened. We have a deal to discuss.”

Hawke is groggy, “W-what?”

“A deal, my dear. For Fenris.”

“No!” Fenris snaps.

Hawke blinks her eyes tightly a few times, “Fenris? What happened?”

“Danarius.”

She looks at him, up and then down, before a smirk crawls across her face, “The way Fenris talked about you, I was half expecting an old fat man with no hair that smelled of booze. Now I see I was wrong. Your face is twice as ugly as that.”

Danarius strikes her across the face, each of his rings catching. She gives a low groan and spits out blood near his feet. Fenris tries to break his shackles but Danarius turns and makes the lyrium inside of him flare up again. Fenris lets out a harsh noise and Hawke cries out stop. Danarius stops and Fenris falls to side, gasping for breath. Hawke swears and then screams, “What do you want?!”

“To make a deal.”

“What deal?”

“You want my little wolf so badly? Fine. I am willing to sell him. For a price.”

“Hawke…” Fenris gasps. Danarius is a liar. He will lie and cheat. He has wasted too many years and too much money on him to simply sell him with any intention of honoring it. No. He will make Hawke take the deal, trick her into it, and then kill her.

He will be a slave once more.

Hawke glares at him, “How much?”

“I spent roughly 900 gold to get the lyrium into his skin. 600 gold to go and get him from those...Fog Warriors. And over the years, about...oh, let’s just say around two thousand gold, to get him back. So if you want him, you can have him. But I will need over three thousand gold pieces.”

Hawke sets her jaw, her eyes hard as a few strands of black hair fall into her face. She won’t look at him, “And how do you plan on getting that gold if I’m stuck here?”

“You can pay it off. With you body.”

Fenris lurches up, his head spinning, “NO!”

Hawke only closes her eyes, “How much for each one?”

Danarius smiles, “I love it when people are reasonable. At the current rate, three silvers for oral. Ten for anal. One gold for harsh sex. Twenty gold for bodily harm. And Fenris has to watch, to make sure no one kills you.”

“And who is going to keep track? Because I don’t trust you.”

“Fenris will. They will have to throw the coin at him, and he will count it. Once you have enough, you can both leave.”

“No, this is wrong. Hawke! Do not take this deal!” He cries out.

Danarius hushes him, “Fenris is right. I should be honest with you. You will have to pay for food and if you want a bath. That will be a gold piece each. And if you try to escape, well, then your lives are forfeit.”

Fenris longs to break his chains. Rip this man to shreds and run away with Hawke in tow. Instead she sighs heavily and instead of breaking free, instead of leaving him to his fate, she says, “I want it in writing. We sign our names. No deal breakers or double crosses.”

“Of course.” Danarius says with a smile.

Hawke has to sign with her mouth and Danarius seals it in blood magic. Fenris wants to scream but he won’t. Because the first three men come in. Qunari. Danarius wishes them a good night. They each throw twenty gold pieces at him. Hawke doesn’t look at him.

She just closes her eyes. The first one takes her down from the hook and throws the red favor towards him. He collects it with shaking hands. They throw her into the wall near his cage, and she cries out, her wound leaking fresh blood. The second one grabs her by her hair and slams her face between the bars of his cage. She is crying and he wants this to end. The third one grabs her around the waist and lifts into the air before slamming her over his knee.

She gives a weak weeze. The first one grabs her ankle and twists it just so. Fenris can hear the crack and Hawke screams. The second Qunari removes her clothing, and third and first hold her arms and legs apart. The Qunari waste no time. There is so much blood and Hawke won’t stop crying. The Qunari gives a low grunt and white mixes with the red.

The second and first trade places. He uses his claws to rake down her inner thighs, and she cries out again. He punches her in the ribs a few times until Hawke is truly wheezing. Broken ribs. He flips her harshly onto her stomach, her wound opening more and more. She gives a weak cry when he enters her. Fenris can feel something in his mind shying away from this, but he looks on.

He can’t look away from what is happening.

The last one drags her to his cage and makes her hold onto the bars. He points to Fenris, “Bear witness, elf. She is no great killer of Qunari or Tal-Valshoth.”

She only bows her head and tries to keep it from hitting the bars. It last a lifetime as they each take turns. She stops crying aloud after the first hour. By the second, they have broken the leg that the ankle was broken on. They use a blade and a weak candle flame to sear her wound on her stomach close. They leaves deep scratches in her skin. By the third hour, she is a limp rag doll between them.

They leave half way through the four hour. She body shakes and her eyes are dull. He reaches for her and she flinches away. He draws his hand back. The door opens by the sixth hour, and three templars come in. They throw a small bag of coins at him. Unlike the Qunari, they make her talk while the hurt her.

“Say it.” the first one grunts.

“I’m a dirty whore.”

“Say it!” the second one snaps as he hits her across the face over and over again.

“I should be a good bitch and go to the circle.”

“Tell me.” the last one whispers.

“I’m a good girl. A good mage.”

When dawn comes creeping into the room, they leave. Hawke curls into a ball away from him and the door. He tries to reach her, his whole arm straining through the bars. She is too far away.

“Hawke.” he says. The door opens again and Danarius walks in. The next few hours are a blur of pain and Danarius makes his body quiver and jump like a puppet because of the lyrium. He comes to to the wet sound of sex and Hawke trying to cry out around a gag in her mouth. A knife in her knee and one in her shoulder. Fenris has never felt so helpless.

He can feel something in his mind starting to crack.


	2. Metallic taste are acquired

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I am still so sorry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I used Google translate for Latin. 
> 
> You can not take her away from me  
> Non me ut illam amanti abducerem
> 
> This slave will pay a pound of flesh for his transgressions  
> Hoc collyrium carnis libra iniquitatibus reddam.

Fenris tries to keep track of the days. He thinks that they have been here for three weeks. Hawke is so thin and weak, but she won’t accept any food. She makes him eat though, for her eyes beg him to. He eats only small portions of food, until he remembers that she will be took weak to help him when the time for their escape comes. He eats as much as he can buy; but he buys sparingly with the coin that they are given as her body is abused. She had tried not bathing as well, but Danarius had simply thrown cold water over her.

Her broken bones are not mended, and her wounds are treated without magic. She wheezes so much at night he fears one of her ribs will pierce her lung. He has taken to talking to her between men.

She has stopped talking and in the small hours when they are alone, it makes his heart hurt to not be spoke to. But the next man that comes in sends every warning bell in his head ringing. He comes in mage robes and fine jewelry. A bag is thrown over his shoulder. He hands Fenris a very large sack of coins and lifts Hawke from the ground to put her in the chair that Danarius had brought in. One of the men had wanted her to ride him as he sat in a chair. He makes her sit with her legs closed and her hands folded in her lap.

“Such pretty black hair and deep brown eyes. Earthy tones; I like it. I never have a chance to look at someone like you often. You look so much like her in fact. The last time I saw her anyway.” The man says with a pleasant smile at Hawke. She is so weak that Fenris can tell it is taking all of her strength to keep her head from falling to her breastbone.

He wipes her face clean with a rag from his pocket and a small vial of water and then opens the bag. Makeup, and yet it does not ease the knot inside of Fenris. Fenris moves as close to the bars as he can. The man takes out a small bottle of lavender perfume and puts it in Hawke's hands. He begins to hum as he works. A cream colored jar of bronzer is used to make her skin shine and glow with the health that she should have had, if she had not let her body be used, in order to save him. A white cream is placed under her eyes, making them look brighter, wider, and younger.

He paints her lips in a vivid red and a light pink blush adorns her cheeks. A smokey grey color is used on the lids of her eyes. It takes him an hour to do all of this, since each color is chosen with care and each layer is put in with obsessive perfection. He moves her face left and then right. Up and down. He stops humming and begins to pace. Muttering curses.

He then yells so loudly that they both flinch. He jerks her to her feet and grabs the bottle from her hands. He uses it to strike her across her face. She lets out a soft sob. He keeps hitting her in the face, so close to her eyes.

“Leave her alone!” Fenris snaps at him, trying to grab his robes to pull him away. The red ribbon around his wrist seems so out of place in this nightmare. The man drops Hawke to the ground and Fenris can see that one of her eyes is completely swollen shut. The man tugs at his hair and then glares down at her. Something wicked lurks in his gaze. He opens the perfume and pours it over her body, and she only moves her face away from the stream.

He smashes the bottle and grabs the largest shard. He holds her face tightly and he digs the shard into her swollen eye with a cackle, “Oh does it feel like love, mother? Looking at me with your whore eyes. Let your son help you.”

Fenris can feel the bile rise in his throat as Hawke screams and kicks and tries to throw the man off of her. When her eyes comes out, she falls limp. Fenris jerks to the foul chamber pot in the corner of his cell and lets his stomach empty itself. The man just keeps giggling. Fenris turns to look as he sits on her wounded stomach, his knees so close to her broken ribs. He is gazing up at the ceiling. Then he looks down at Hawke and then at the glass shard in his hand.

Fenris feels a hand of fear squeeze every inch of him. He slams his body into the bars, the tips of his fingers grabbing the mans robes. Fenris feels is control snap and fall away like a frayed rope as he screams at the top of his lungs in Arcanum, “Non me ut illam amanti abducerem!” The man stabs him in the hand and then brings the knife down deep into her throat—above the collar and makes jagged motions with it. Her blood paints the both of them. Fenris feels his world shift. He screams for Danarius.

The man is taken away and so is Hawke. She is gone for two weeks. Fenris is still fed and his wound is treated. He covers the scar—which has filled itself with lyrium—with the red favor. When Hawke is put back in the room with him, one eye is gone and a jagged zig-zag scar mars her throat. Her leg is still badly wounded, along with her stomach. She flinches at every noise outside of their prison, and she won’t look at him.

He reaches for her, calling her name. She is curled into herself on the other side the room. The one window letting the sun bath her in warmth. She is shaking badly. When the sun is setting she looks at him finally and then crawls to him. She grabs his hand and places it on her stomach. There is a lump within her hollow shell.

Life.

He looks at her face and it is ashen with tears. She moves her mouth, weak noises mixed with broken glass flow from her mouth. He reads her lips instead. Kill it. Kill me. He removes his hand from her stomach and slides into the farthest part of his cage. She sobs, holding the bars.

Fenris is no fool. One of these men will kill that child. Kill her. They have to get out. That night, no one comes for her. And his sleep is haunted with his worst fears. A demon suckling at her breast, growing older and calling him “papa” and then magic.

Fire. Death. Both of them in chains.

He wakes up several times in the night, but she is still on the other side of his cage, her body broken. He goes to her and curls around her. He can not protect her in any other way but this. He wakes up and lets his hand glow to show her. She pushes it in and he wraps around the small lump. She doesn’t even flinch when he draws it out of her body. He puts it in the chamber pot and goes back to her, holding her battered body close to him in the cold.

She sleeps with broken ribs and soft hitches in her breath. He breaths a promise into her instead, even as his mind slowly breaks apart at the seams, “Hoc collyrium carnis libra iniquitatibus reddam.” 


	3. We are not things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hope comes for them.

Hope comes in near the end of the second month. Hawke is now nothing more than a pretty doll with thin bird like bones, and with this means her body will reject any life that tries to settle inside of it. Fenris himself is little better than a guard dog. Barking and clawing but never a real threat. Not when Danarius comes to torment him three times a day. The hour is late and Hawke has taken to picking at her skin. He stops her with a firm hold.

Never tight, for she cries silent tears and tries to jerk away from him. Fenris counts his small blessings that she still tries to fight some days. A large man in black cloak comes in. Fenris can see shiny armor under it. A templar, he thinks. Then the man kneels before Hawke and reaches with a shaking hand for her shoulder. Fenris spies the griffin on his chest.

A Grey Warden.

“Carver?” Fenris whispers. Carver turns to look at him, blue eyes wide with fear, anger, and unshed tears. He slams his fist into the ground and another into his mouth to muffle the scream of rage. Fenris watches Hawke. She doesn’t move. Carver has the same tan skin as them, with the same black hair as his sister and his long dead twin.

Only the blue eyes of a mother who blames her daughter for things she had no control over. Carver turns his head, still covered by a cloak and takes out a small water flask. Hawke has her eye closed and accepts the water with little fuss. Carver takes care to make sure she doesn’t choke. He wipes the dirt from some of her wounds. He helps her to sit against the bars of the cage. Her head just slumps and Carver finally looks at him.

“How?” Carver whispers as he runs his thumb over Hawkes thin and brittle knuckles.

Fenris tells him the truth, “We were caught in a fight.”

Carver is blinking away tears, wiping them away with his sleeve harshly, and yet he still pets Hawkes hand like it was a newborn baby. In some ways she was. She didn’t even try to tell him anything anymore with her eyes. Blank and dead, but still breathing with broken ribs and the wet sound of sickness deep in her lungs. Carver has always had a deep voice. It has never cracked, as far as Fenris can remember, but it does when he asks, “How long has she been here? How long?”

“What day is it?” Fenris asks. Life outside of the cage, of kneeling. Of watching Hawke be used over and over again. It was like a dream and the nightmare of his life was this place only.

“A month before winter sets in proper.”

Fenris closes his eyes for a moment and then nods his head, hoping his days are right, “Two months then. The Qunari were smart. Waiting so long as they did before attacking.”

Carver lets go of Hawke to slam both fist into the cage and the scream at him, “Shut up!” He slams his fist again, “Shut...shut up.” He slumps down and down until his head reast in his sister's lap, not even caring for the filth that stains her thighs, “Oh Maker...Hawke...sister. Sister.”

Hawke coughs—she has begun to cough too often, the wet sound of her lungs making Fenris hold his breath, praying that her heart keeps beating even as her lungs fail her—her body shaking and moving. Carver hugs her tightly, and sobs into a boney shoulder. She is nothing but bones anymore.

“She can’t speak. Her voice is gone. Taken from her.”

Carver lets her go, his arms sliding away with deliberate slowness. He stands and tugs at his hair, pacing in front of them. Hawke coughs again and a small dribble of blood slinks down her chin. Carver kneels again and wipe it away,“We need to get her out of her.”

Fenris shakes his head and points to the door, “Danarius is watching, with well paid guards. He will kill in one swift move and we will be worse off.” Once he has said it, Fenris knows he has made a mistake. Carver gives him a look so evil and foul that it makes Fenris freeze in his cage.

“We? WE? You mean her! Look at her! She is no more than a corpse and you...you are little more than a caged dog returned to its demented owner! She should be safe and at home and you should be where she is!” Carver yells as he shakes the bars of the cage.

Fenris does not shrink away. But it takes everything he has left to not do so.

“I know that. If I could, I would be in her place. But she took that choice away from me.”

Carver gives a scoff, “And now only she suffers for it. For a slave who hates what she is. A mage. All the good her magic did her. Ever since she met you, nothing but bad luck has followed.”

“I know.” Fenris says as he bows his head, rubbing the red favor between his fingers. The only proof that life outside of this place had, in fact, happened. The room is quiet for a long time, only broken when Hawke wheezes and coughs up foul smelling blood. Carver stands to leave, when the sun has come back up, painting the tiny room into pinks and oranges. Fenris licks his chapped lips.

“I’ll be back for her. Maybe I’ll even save you.” Carver sneers.

Fenris doesn’t want to tell him. But he must. Because Hawke will suffer more if the money is short,“Carver, you have to leave money.”

Carver is stiff as a stone, his back to Fenris, “Does he collect it?”

“Yes. Every other night.” Fenris tells him.

Carver glares at him over his broad shoulder, “Count the nights then elf. In three days times I’m coming back with help. And my sister will be gone from this hell.”

Fenris grips the bars to his prison so tightly he can feel the bones beneath his skin creak, “Please...don’t forget about her. Save her. Even if means leaving me to die. Please.”

“Leave you to die? I wish I could; but she enjoys having you around too much. And if being near you and seeing your face will bring her some small form of happiness, then I have to save you. But make no mistake. I. Don’t. Want To. Save. You.”

Carver is true to his word. The moon has only risen a few hours high when he hears footsteps rushing away from their cell. Fenris feels his heart beat quickly. The man using Hawke is none the wiser. Fenris can feel the small spots of lyrium in him still. Enough to kill this man.

The door is thrown open and the man turns only to have a bolt go through his skull. Fenris rattles the door. Isabela opens it and undoes his chains. Fenris tries to rush to Hawke, his legs fail him. Too long kneeling. He crawls to her instead and moves around Anders as he tries to heal her. He wraps his body around hers, whispering apology after apology into her concave belly, where the ugly and infected wound assaults his nose.

He does not care. He can Anders speaking.

“She has three infected wounds. A badly broken leg. Missing eye. Damaged vocal cords. Extreme water lung and damaged ribs. She can’t get hit even once, do you understand. She is as good as dead if she gets hits in a fight.”

Fenris curls over her once more and moves her hair out of her face. He lifts her with what little strength he has left. He lets his anger roar into life. The memoires of being a slave. The abuse done to him and Hawke. The woman who shudders and cough blood into his neck even as he hooks an arm under her knees. He finally looks up.

Anders, Merril, Isabela, Carver, Sebastian, Aveline, and Varric.

He is not weak. Never weak. A master like Hawke needs a strong and devout slave. And he is both. He can hear the growl in his voice, “Give me a sword.”

Isabela gives him a spare dagger. He cuts away the collar in one swift swipe and he can feel the magic return to her. His whole body lights up. He marches with aching knees and numb feet like a man possessed. Every enemy in his path is slain. Sebastian and Varric cut off enemies further ahead. Anders and Merrill cast spells with more murderous intent then he has ever seen them do so before.

Isabela, Carver and Aveline guard his sides and back. Danarius send demons and he cuts them away. He keeps going and going until Danarius is in a corner and out of mana. The blade is black with blood and Hawke lets of strained puffs of breath into his sweaty neck. He points the dagger at the flabby throat of Danarius. He glares at his old master and the master glares back. The others watch.

“Look at her.” Fenris hisses.

Danarius does and smirks, “She might need a bath.”

“You did this to her.”

“She did it to herself. To save you.”

“You gave her no choice.”

“I did. And she chose poorly.”

Fenris presses the tip harder into the aged skin. A well of blood raises up and wobbles down his shaking adams apple. Fenris knows he is glowing. Even his eyes burn with his rage. Hawke and her magic flutter like a dying butterfly against him. Fenris leans in closely, letting the edge of the dagger proper press into the throat laid bare before it, “What do you see when you look at us?”

“Playthings.”

It is Hawke who turns her head, finally, to look at Danarius. Weak and dying. Her voice broken and her body along with it. She is shaking as she puts her hands over Fenris’ and pushes forward with her dead weight. Danarius dies with a gurgle. Hawke slumps against him and he can feel her mouth and her chapped lips move against his collarbone.

We are not things.

Fenris feels his body finally give out. He curls around Hawke and lets his body take the brunt of their fall. He wakes up clean and in a soft bed and his heart drops. Where was Hawke? He rolls until he finds the edge of the bed and slides with the grace of a killer to the floor. He can see a dim light peeking in a slit. A door.

He opens it softly and peers down the dark hallways. Hawkes mansion. He stays to the shadows and finds the door to her room open. Jasper on the bed by her feet, her mother sitting in a chair by the fire, snoring softly. Carver is into the window seat, also sleeping. Jasper only looks up as he comes in and takes up the little space left between Hawke and her dog. She is propped up on pillows and her eye is bandaged.

She is still wheezing but less so. He closes his eyes, his hand finding hers even in the dimly lit room. He takes off the red favor and wraps it around her wrist and then his. He can finally rest easy for the moment.

 

 


	4. The world is yours

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She isn't better. But she isn't worse either. A small ray of hope shines down on them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't like Leandra Hawke. I don't. No matter how many times I played, I never liked her at all. It was her fault that her daughter died. You know you don't know how to fight and instead of hiding OUT OF THE WAY, in the middle of the fucking battlefield, you stayed out. Your daughter died to save you and instead you blame your eldest kid. Fuck that noise. Then she whines and complains so fucking much. Acting like Hawke is such a fucking headache. Your kid did so much for you and you still act like that? So no, I don't like Leandra Hawke. Oh, I'm sorry, AMELL. Like she chose to get married to Malcome, that means your last name is not yours anymore. Sorry, rant over. 
> 
> Translations:  
> She needs to leave this place. (Hinc necessarium.)  
> Her mother won't let her.(Nec capiaris nutibus illius mater.)  
> That horrible woman. What should we do.(Quod mulier detestabilis. Quid faciemus.)  
> We need to take her away.(Oportet ut illam amanti abducerem.)  
> The sea queen will help.(Mare reginae auxilium.)  
> She will.(Nubat.)  
> I will ask her.(Et quæramus ipsius voluntatem.)  
> Thank you, Orana.(Gratias tibi ago, Orana.)  
> She is my mistress, Fenris. She saved me. You both did.(lla est domina, Fenris. Servavit me. Utrumque fecit.)

Varric had met Leandra Hawke a handful of times. In his personal opinion, she was a nice woman overall, but she played favorites. Hawke was her father's. The twins her mother's, Bethany the first choice. Hawke had been saved for a week now, but it was Carver that Leandra fussed over. Maybe it was because she didn’t know how to deal with a glowy, broody elf who snarled at people when they got too close to Hawke. Fenris had taken to sleeping at her feet, feeding her the broth Anders had said she had to drink, changing her bandages and making sure she didn’t choke in the middle of the night.

Orana was in charge of bathing and in being a very scary little elf whenever anyone wanted to yell in the house. Especially too close to Hawkes room. The girl had a glare that would have made the Maker squirm. Aveline had found all the men, save the Templars, who had known where Hawke was. She and Donnic where having fun with them. Merrill had taken to coming by with little gifts. Books and colored glass to hang in the window to cast rainbow colors everywhere.

Fenris had hung them on every damn window and had each book a little home under the bed for when Hawke felt better. Anders and Sebastian had taken to praying. Between the rape and what Fenris told them he did for her, well, it wasn’t any wonder why. Isabela had begun to lounge on the stairs, playing card games with Carver on them. Leandra had taken to avoiding Isabela. Sandal and Jasper made Hawke smile. If a twitch in her lips was a smile.

He had taken to writing his books while he sat at the desk in her room. Fenris dozed at her feet on the bed while Hawke napped. He stopped between pages and a loud wheeze followed by several clicks. He turned and yes, she was up. Doped up on elf root and strong drink. Anders had had to break her leg to reset it in order for the bone to heal correctly. She looked around the room her gaunt face too pale for her tan skin.

He moved up and off the chair to stand next to the bed, near Fenris and his feet. Poor Merrill had almost lost a limb by standing near his head. On Hawke's blind spot. She looked at him, face dull with pain and then looked away. He reached for her hand and stopped. She didn’t react. He held it in a loose grip.

Still nothing. Then he held it and she looked at him again, her head moving slowly. He smiled at her. She blinked slowly at him and then went back to looking ahead at nothing. Varric felt Fenris watching him and turned to look at the elf. He was still lying down, eyes wide open, watching their hands. Varric let go and Fenris looked at him instead.

“Just me, Broody.”

“I know. But sometimes...my mind wanders from me when I first awaken. We are not safe, we are still there. Even friendly faces turn sinister. I don’t mean to glare at you all, Orana doesn’t either. But we...we know what is happening to her. Her mind is far from easing.”

Varric only nodded his head, “Take all the time you need. We can keep Kirkwall from burning down around us while she recovers.”

“Thank you. She would tell you that but her voice-”

“Fenris. Hawke can stay in this room for the next ten years if that’s what it takes to get her back. None of us are going anywhere. And besides, between you, the mutt, Orana, and Carver, Hawke will be in safe hands.”

“Thank you Varric. Truly.”

Varric watched as Fenris moved up and off the bed to walk to the door. He called softly down the hall and Orana was suddenly there. They spoke in soft tones in Arcanum and then Orana was gone. Jasper walked in and Fenris shut the door after the dog was through the door. Jasper sat down on the side Hawke could see out of a gave low bark, going down to his front paws, his bottom wagging. Hawke moved her hand slowly until it hung off the edge of the bed. Jasper bathed it dog spit.

A pure love from a dog. They wanted nothing from you but your love, attention, a friendly rub on the head and belly. A good meal. An easy won love and devotion. Fenris had moved to stand at the foot of the bed. Varric rubbed his jaw. A dog gave love easy.

People gave love in small pieces and then all at once. Like a small wave leading up to a tsunami. Orana came in with a small tray of broth and shooed Jasper away with kind words and a small flick of her skirt at him. Jasper went to lie down in front of the fireplace. Fenris moved like he was dying to Hawke and her bedside. Orana placed the tray on the endside table and then helped Fenris to sit Hawke all the way up instead of being reclined. She gave a small noise of dying animal and then Fenris supported her entirely, holding him around her shoulders, letting her lean on him.

Orana placed the tray down and swept black hair away from a pale face. She went to tend to the fire and Fenris began to feed Hawke. She didn’t open her mouth for a few minutes and then she took small sips, Fenris murmuring softly and sweetly to her. Varric went to the door and shut it. There were some moments that never needed to be seen or even written about. He went down the stairs and Isabela and Carver looked up from their slow card game. He sat down on the step above from them.

“How is she?” Carver asked.

Varric jerked his thumb over his shoulder, “Fenris is feeding her right now. Orana is keeping the room warm. Jasper is clocking out for a nap.”

“So she has two guard dogs and a scary little elf woman armed with a fire poker. Nice to know that she is more guarded than the Holy Mother in room full of Templars.” Isabela says with a smirk. They all looked up as both Anders and Sebastian came in. Varric moved so Anders could go up, his greeting soft to them. Sebastian stood at the foot of the stairs, his eyes tired and dark circles under them. Anders looked the same.

“Carver, I have a matter I wish to speak to you and your mother about.”

“Why does my mother need to spoken to about it?”

“Because you are related by blood to Hawke. You’re family.”

“Everyone here is family to my mistress.” Orana said from the top of the stairs, making her way down with the tray. She held her head high as she spoke, “Mistress Hawke has often said that all of you are the family she dreamt about. She would be upset if you didn’t include everyone.”

Sebastian bowed his head as Orana passed. He looked back at them, “If you agree, Carver, then all of us can be included.”

“Merrill would need to here.” Varric said.

Isabela put the deck of cards back into her boot, “She’s out in the garden. Leandra and Aveline are in the library. Fenris will want to be here too then.”

“He won’t leave her side.” Carver said.

Orana came to stand by Sebastian, “I’ll speak to him. Go and speak with Lady Hawke. I will guard my mistress.” She moved back up the stairs with her hands folded in front of her.

“Broody won’t let himself be gone too long. We should do this quick.” Varric said and they all gave low mutters as they went. Leandra looked up from her book and gave them a tentative smile. They all sat or leaned against any chair in the room. Carver informed his mother than Sebastian wanted to speak to them all. She put her book down and looked at Sebastian. Merrill came in along with Jasper.

“What do you wish to speak about, Brother Sebastian?”

Sebastian drew himself up to his full height, his white armor glowing in the afternoon light, “I am a brother no longer, Lady Hawke.”

“Amell.”

“You married a name who had the family name of Hawke.” Isabela said, “That means that your former last name doesn’t factor into this conversation.”

“Isabela.” Aveline said with a heavy sigh.

“It’s true.” Isabela said with a snap.

“I think that this isn’t the time for yelling.” Varric said.

Sebastian snapped and blurted out, “I want to take Hawke with me back to Starkhaven. Anders will be her healer.”

Leandra pursed her lips, “Leave Kirkwall?”

“Yes. Hawke has done me many favors. I owe her more than just a simple thanks. What happened to her was tragic. Anders and I agree that staying here might be more detrimental to her health than anything else.”

“I agree.” Carver said as he folded his hands in front of his mouth, leaning heavily on his knees.

“Is she well enough to travel?” Aveline asked.

“Anders will see. I plan on going ahead and setting up a place for her. Quiet and serene. Fenris will most likely be going with her.”

Varric itched the space between his ear and jaw, “Orana is going to be going too. She won’t leave. Jasper is her dog.”

“I can go. The Grey Wardens have been made aware of the...tragedy that has fallen my sister. They agreed to let me stay for as long as it take so long as my training is continued.” Carver said.

Isabela shrugged, “I can take you to Starkhaven. Come back and then take everyone else.”

“Everyone else?” Leandra asked with a raised eyebrow.

“I’m going. Hawke saved me from those Qunari. I owe her a lot.” Isabela said.

“She is a good woman. She didn’t deserve what happened to her. My clan has forgotten me but Hawke never has. I go where she will allow me to follow.” Merrill said softly.

“Hawke is my friend. She needs me. Donnic agrees. And we both feel that she needs help.” Aveline said.

“What would she do without me?” Varric joked.

Leandra shook her head, “I won’t leave Kirkwall.”

“Mother.” Carver said.

“No. We had to leave our home. Your sister. We will not leave this place.”

Anders and Fenris had walked in while Leandra was speaking. Varric saw Anders glow and Fenris scowl. Anders crossed his arms, “So Hawke isn’t your daughter then? You would leave her to die inside her own mind as this city plagues her?”

Leandra stood from her chair, “No. That is not what I said. This place is our home. They way you all are speaking, it is as though she would never be coming back.”

“She can.” Sebastian said, “But for now, this might kill her. Staying her.”

“I don’t believe it. I won’t.” Leandra said.

“Your daughter was raped and used.” Fenris snapped at her, “She is all but dead upstairs and you will sit here and argue with a man who wishes only her well being and her healer. Truly I have known more cruelty but you, you Lady AMELL, are worse than magister in the Imperium.” He turned away from them.

Leandra was left with a gasping mouth. Sebastian only shook his head and let himself shrink back down into his old image of a brother. He rubbed his head for a moment and then sighed heavily, “I am leaving in two weeks time. Let me know what is she decides.”

Varric left the room with him and then went up the stairs. The door was slightly ajar. He could hear Fenris and Orana speaking in hushed tones. Arcanum flying in rushed whispers and urgent tones. He stood outside the door and listened.

Orana sounded older than she actually was in Arcanum, “Hinc necessarium.”

Fenris sounded much the same as he had since coming back from the hell they both had been rescued from. Tired and angry and helpless, “Nec capiaris nutibus illius mater.”

Orana scoffed, “Quod mulier detestabilis. Quid faciemus et nos?” Varric could hear them getting a bath ready for Hawke. The water sounding like thunder in the quiet room.

“Nos ut illam amanti abducerem.” Fenris said, followed by the sound of a draw opening and the closing. More water and then the strike of flint to heat it. No more magic runes to speed up the process.

“Mare reginae auxilio!” Orana said with a soft kind of breathless excitement.

Fenris only answered with a firm, “Nubat.”

“Et quæramus ipsius voluntatem.” Orana said and then the sound of blankets being removed and then a loud wheeze as Hawke was picked up. Varric had heard it enough times to know that. The sound of a body being lowered to the water, the slosh of it going over the sides.

“Gratias tibi ago, Orana.” Fenris said.

“Illa est domina, Fenris. Servavit me. Utrumque fecit.” 


	5. Old habits don't die

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She knows that she's home. But the demons promised her home all the time. And she wasn't desperate enough to believe them. No matter how nice the illusion was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M SO SORRY. RL bitched smacked me super hard. Please enjoy this spam of updates.  
> Translations: Percute me. Illudant mihi. Aliquid. Iustus non ignoscat mihi=Strike me. Abuse me. Anything. Just do not ignore me.

Nightmares have plagued her since childhood. They hardly warrant a startled gasp and flinging away the covers anymore. She can scarcely tell the difference between the waking world and the Fade anymore anyway. The thunder is what wakes her up instead, since she has not heard the noise is such a long time. She can feel the warm hands rubbing her hand and up her arm. Soothing words whispered in a tongue she has never learned reach her eyes. Her heart still races.

Jasper whines from the darkness and the low light. She closes her eyes instead and tries to bury herself in the space in her mind that no demon has ever broken. No demon has ever broken it, but mortal men of flesh and bone almost had. Fenris distrusted mages, Anders the Templars. Now she truly understood why they hated so much. If she let anything other than hate consume her, she would fall into a place that had no way out again, save death. And she wanted to live more than anything else.

The thunder comes again.

The sound of cloth shifting and then warm hands move her hair away from her face. More tender words. She turns away instead. This man always speaks softly to her, and the pain is twice as deadly. She wishes that Fenris was better, so that he could flee and get them help. Or so that when she found a way to take her own life and the life of whoever was using her, he would not be there to witness her shame. The hand was hovering now, the stench of lyrium close at hand.

Was Fenris pressing against the bars again? He should just turn away instead. She tried to turn onto her side, her hurt ribs and leg be damned. The hand caught her on her bony shoulder. She used to be so healthy, a little on the chubby side if she was honest with herself. No she was skin protecting bones that could not support her. The soft groan escapes her mouth without her permission as tender hands sooth her hair and prop her once more against pillows.

“Anders said you will hurt yourself. You must stay on your back.”

She can feel the tears rolling down her face. The hands wipe them away. The thunder comes once more and she lets go instead. This new illusion is grand, but reality must still be obeyed to some degree. The bed is high from the floor. Her ribs are fragile to the point that one good fall and they will break inwards and stab her lung. She prays that Fenris is sleeping, or at the very least forgives her.

He lived a slave for longer than she had and yet she was ready to let go. He never wanted to. She waits until the bed moves, and the sound of water being poured. The man is not on the bed anymore. He can not stop her. She gathers the small embers of power she has and with one final breath pushes herself up, over and lets gravity do to the rest. She lands on her shoulder wrong, and something pops out of place, hurting her neck in the process.

She lands on her stomach with a small cry.

“HAWKE!” the man says and he sounds so afraid. Running feet, so many of them. She is being propped up and she opens her eyes, blurry from sleep and wanting to keep them shut so tightly. The man fades and fades and fades and then Fenris is there. So pale and afraid. He keeps petting her hair and telling her it will be alright now.

Then Anders comes into view and he gives a low hiss of pain on her behalf when he looks at her shoulder. He and Fenris are talking, but a ringing has started in her ears and she turns away from them instead. She is so tired now. She lets her head rest on the warm shoulder lined with lyrium. She closes her eyes and then Fenris is opening her eyes with his fingers. She wants to tell him to leave her be, let her sleep. But pain stops her with a choking gasp as Anders puts her shoulder back into place.

Cool healing magic laces up her arm, into her neck, down her ribcage and into her leg. She lets herself cough, heaving and choking, her back and chest aching. Fenris holds her close as she does. He goes to lift her and she finds that she does not want to go back. The bed is too vast, too much. Too soft. She pushes him away and because he doesn’t expect it, he is pushed far from her.

His face shows so much confusion and hurt. He hovers instead, hands out, fingers twitching, one leg on the floor and the other braced. Kneeling before her as she sits, on the floor drowsy. Jasper licks her hand and keeps his front low the floor while his tail wags slowly. She turns her head as best she can to find Anders, his staff on the floor, and he leaning against it heavily. She twist slowly and grabs the hem of his robes. He helps her up, and gives her his staff.

She points to it and then her own, hidden in the closet. Jasper goes to get it. Her father's staff is rough and familiar beneath her hands. She gives Anders his back and uses the staff as a walking stick. She limps, and everything is painful. The room tilts side to side. As though she is on a ship again.

Fenris is at her side and she hates him for it. She will drag him down. She swipes her hand at him and he moves back. She goes to limp to the door and he moves past her to open it, standing on the other side. Waiting for her. She hates him for it again. Can he not see?

He left once, he should do it again. She goes past him and when he tries to help her down the stairs she uses her staff instead. He only ducks, but just barely. She points to him, and then to the door. He is confused. She jabs her finger into his chest, her legs shaking and her grip tight on her staff and then swing it to the door. He does not look away from her.

She mouths the words instead. Leave, Fenris.

He looks as though he has been shot. He shakes his head at her, “I can not leave. You are still unwell. Please, allow me to help you.”  She wants to tell him that she will be unwell for a long, long time and he is wasting his by staying with her. All of them are. Jasper whines at her heel.

He goes to reach for her hands and she slaps his away. He looks so hurt. She turns from him and she hears something fall before his head in pressing into her lower back, his arms tight around her. Carver and Isabela hover on the second step, watching. Jasper licks Fenris on his arm. He speaks softly, but there is no noise, and it might as well be a shout.

“Do not leave me, Hawke.”

She has no more energy and she is too broken to help anyone anymore. She moves out of his grip and back into the room. Anders is shooed out and Jasper plants himself by her feet. She shuts and locks the door. A knock comes. And then her name. She pulls down her old clothes and puts them in the corner of her wardrobe.

She shuts the door as another knock comes. And another. And another. She closes her eyes, wrapped around her staff with her dog at her feet and sleeps. The thunder is distant now, locked away as she is. It is confusing to be awoken then a few hours later, as Jasper is let out and a large warm body takes his place. A head of white hair is tucked under her chin, arms wrapped tightly to her waist.

Lower body curled to fit and the door only partly shut. A low sliver of light shines on his eyes so he can see. She can not see out of the other eye anymore and the light doesn’t bother her. She coughs and he doesn’t move. She wheezes and he doesn’t move. She tries to wiggle away and he hold on. She turns away from him when goes to nuzzle under her jaw.

She will make him leave so he can be free. She will. She has too. Fenris buries his face into her neck instead, kissing the bruise along her shoulder from her own folly. He whispers into her skin, “Percute me. Illudant mihi. Aliquid. Iustus non ignoscat mihi.”


	6. I'll be the sky, you be the star

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Taking steps is easy, standing still is hard.

Broody had taken to following Hawke like a shadow. Hawke was quick to anger. And scare. Which would lead to her falling down to the floor, a sobbing and shaking mess. Her hands tugging on her hair and her voice screaming to leave her alone. Fenris would be there, curling around her with his whole body as a shield, taking the hits and smacks with not even a hint of pain across his face. The lyrium inside of him was glowing like a fire when she got like that, and Varric knew that Fenris could feel those like a thousand stabs in the stomach.

But he never left her and Varric had taken to keeping an ear to the ground. It paid off. He came to the estate in the late afternoon, when Anders would be checking on Hawke. Her leg was still weak but she could walk normally now. Running was still a trial. Her lungs had cleared up and her voice was softer than snow falling. Except when she screamed.

Fenris was always sent to wait by the bedroom door. Hawke didn’t want him looking at her. He was glaring at the wood as though it had personally offended him. He gave a low chuckle and Fenris turned to glare at him. He raised an eyebrow, “What is so funny?”

“Nothing. Nothing.”

“Why are you here? You only visit once a week. Unlike the others, who hover like rats near the sewer.” Fenris said as he uncrossed his arms.

Varric crossed his, “Remember how you said none of the men ever came their names?”

Fenris coiled like a spring on Bianca, “Tell me.”

“I found three of them. Friends.”

Fenris gave a low growl, his body glowing like a beacon, “Speak!”

Varric made a motion to lower his voice and got closer to speak softly, “I’ll be back later on tonight. Aveline is covering us. The others are coming. Except Blondie.”

“Why not?”

“Justice has let it slip once or twice that should they come again, he would let Hawke decide what to do to them. Said it was only fair to her and you.”

Fenris looked down at his feet for a long time, and then answered, “Tell him when the door opens. I need to let the others know that Hawke's mother needs to be...heavily asleep tonight.”

Varric knew that once Fenris was out that door, he would be wolf on the hunt. Stalking and lurking and waiting. And once he saw them, well, those poor souls would wish that they had kept their mouths shut until the day that they had died. It was short work to find them. The Blooming Rose never closed. They just had to wait. Once they came out, drunk and in a good mood, Fenris was glowing as bright as the sun.

And moving twice as fast to slam the first one into the ground, sweep the legs out from the second one and bring his knee up to meet the face of the third that he was pushing down. The one that had been kicked down tried to stand but Fenris slammed his foot down several times into his face. Sebastian had to drag him away and almost lost his head for it. Hawke was sitting curled up in the chair in front of the fireplace in the library. Anders was sitting in front of her on the floor telling her some wild tale of his Grey Warden days. Fenris dropped both of the bodies he had been carrying at her feet and Aveline and Sebastian held onto the third. The one Fenris had tried to beat to death with his foot.

Fenris stood in front of her, chest heaving, fist clenched and expression murderous.

“These are some of the men who hurt you. Who damaged you and all for what? To protect the hide of an elf who hates mages. And yet, he was saved by one. Loves one beyond all reason and logic. And now, she sits in front of him, terror stricken and lost. And I can not bare it.”

Hawke looked ready to faint, so Varric stepped in. He kept his voice calm, “Aveline is giving us a free pass. You say the word and they can disappear in the most painful way. Or, she can try and get them thrown in jail.”

Anders hissed as he stood up, “They’re Templars! Nothing will be done to them!” His face was starting to crack and glow blue. Fenris glared down at the bodies at his feet.

“I remember them. Everyday they came and everyday they made her...made you…” he fell to his knees and bowed until his head rested on her curled knees. His hands gripped the seating under her, by her thighs. She was shaking all over. The room looked on and then she gave a loud sniffle and pushed Fenris to look at her. She grabbed his hand and placed in on her heart and then pointed to the men who had hurt her.

“Looks like we’ll need that free pass after all, Big Girl.”

“Shut up, whore.”

Fenris looked at her like she had told him the meaning of life, “Truly? You will let me kill them?”

She nodded her head and croaked out, “Kill...them...slow.” 


	7. Oh brother, where art thou?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Carver and Hawke had never seen eye to eye after Carver grew up. He wants to explain to her why.

Carver had been the one to convince Hawke and Leandra to go to Starkhaven. Sebastian had finally taken his place and was king. Bodhan and his boy would stay on to make sure that Leandra would be well looked after. Oriana was going with Hawke. Aveline and Isabela has tried to talk her out of it. She had given them a very long and very angry stare before going back to packing everything up. Jasper was going as well.

Fenris had packed his Blade of Mercy, which Hawke had gifted to him, his armor, her red favor, and what little clothing he had. Hawke was taken in the early hours of the morning to the boat that Isabela had named, “Bethany”, in honor of Hawkes sister and Carvers twin. Aveline and Donnic had kept true to their word. No one knew where those Templars had gone. Leandra's garden did look very splendid though. Merrill, packed as she, mirror on board to go to Starkhaven, told Hawke that she had never been on a boat. Hawke only nodded her head and told her, “It’s kind of like being drunk while being sober at the same time.”

To which Merrill replied with a little, “Oh! That does sound like it would make you queasy.”

Isabela, ordering the men that Sebastian had sent over from Starkhaven(along with the ship which was a gift to the pirate queen), turned and gave Merrill a smirk, “Queasy is easy, but drinking gets you thinking.”

Fenris stood near where Hawke was sitting on the dock. A small stack of crates, her staff held to her body and her head bowed down. Jasper snoozed at her feet. Carver came over, his hair pulled up and out of his face. He sat down next to his sister.

“We’ve never really talked...about why I left the first time.” Carver said to her, softly, and full of regret. He regretted so many things. He regretted not saving her sooner most of all. Just like Bethany. Right there but he still wasn’t fast enough to save her. Hawke looked up at her brother, missing eye a scar upon her face and the other blank like that of a Tranquil.

It made Carver so upset to see it like that. He held his hand open, palm up, and placed it between them. She looked at it for a long, long time. She let her hand shiver and shake its way to his and then gripped it tightly. Her knuckles white. Carver could barely feel it. Anders was being flirted with by one of the sailors.

He kept shooing the man away and telling Varric everything that they would need to be sent to Starkhaven. Some of the things inside the healing broth for Hawke only grew on the Wounded Coast. Carver waited as Hawke kept looking at her feet. She never tried to speak much anymore. Fenris tried to help her, but she rarely spoke. She would scream. By the Maker could she scream.

But words were lost now. Fenris didn’t seem to mind. He spoke enough for both of them now. Which was to say, he still talked the same amount as he did before. Carver only waited until Anders was on board to help the others that he spoke. He knew that Fenris was he shadow and wouldn’t leave them alone. Carver was grateful for that.

As a Grey Warden, he would not have a long life. One day he would wake up and then he would go down into those deep roads and never, ever come back up. Even Anders would go down one day. If Templars or his rebellion didn’t kill him first.

“I remember...the first time I saw you use magic. I was about...five or so. I didn’t know that Bethany would get her magic in about a year. I didn’t know that I was never going to get my magic. You were helping mother with something. I don’t even remember what but she dropped a cup on the floor. A thousand pieces of blue glass on our floor.

“Jasper was just a puppy and we were...we were so young. Bethany and I. You looked at her and told her it was alright. You waved your hand and the glass was fixed. Like it was nothing. You just fixed the cup because she liked that cup the most and wanted to help her. You’ve always wanted to help people.

“You don’t know how to NOT help people. But when I saw you do that, use your magic, I knew I wanted to be like you. My big sister. So strong and smart and full of wonder. A mage. I didn’t learn it was a dirty word until we moved again. And then we moved again.

“And again. And again. Because being a mage was never a solution. Even when it was. I waited for so long to get magic, to be like you and father and Bethany. A weapon that knew its own limitations and still strived to help others. When it never came, I grew to hate you.

“Because I hated myself. So I trained with a sword and got stronger and stronger. I hoped that one day I would be stronger than your magic. And then the Blight happened and I left without a word because, I thought, “This can’t be a blight. It isn’t. Just a war. I’ll go and save some lives, become a soldier in the army and my family will see that I am strong.”

Carver looked down at his feet, clenching his eyes shut to ward off the tears even as his voice broke. Hawke moved until she embraced him. He clung to his sister. He remembers her being like this since he had been born. She wanted to help. But if she didn’t think that she could help others she would push them away because she would rather have someone hate her than die because she couldn’t save them. Hawke had always been like that.

It was how Carver wished he could be. He still did some days. He held her tightly as he went on, “But none of you thought I was weak. I didn’t know that. I never got a chance to tell you this, but thank you. If you hadn’t come to get me the first time, I would have died back in Ferelden. With Bethany.

“And down in the deep roads. Being a Grey Warden saved my life. YOU saved my life. And I was too late to save you.”

Hawke let him weep into her shoulder and Fenris looked away. 


	8. All the things my hands have held

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Red sky in the morning, sailor take warning. 
> 
> Translations:   
> She is my master. I am hers.   
> Ipsa est dominus meus. Ego iuramento firmastis.

She was like a doll. She went where they lead her and didn’t protest it. It was like she was tranquil but much, much worse. She still had her magic. Instead of using it though to help or even save herself, she was using it to hurt herself. He had seen it on the second day of their sea voyage. Isabela had said it would take about two weeks to get to Starkhaven. On her wrist was a long and angry cut going to the middle of her palm.

Like a knife wound. As he took her to Anders and he healed it, he hissed that she shouldn’t use her magic to hurt herself. Hawke had just looked at him and nodded her head. She didn’t use it anymore. But she also didn’t try to get out of harm's way. Bumping into sharp corners that left horrible bruises. She fell up the stairs because her legs would give out.

He gave small thanks that she didn’t fall down the stairs instead. His heart would not take her falling down. At least going up she was not prone to falling backwards. She ate when he made her. And he did have to make her. He would have to sit behind her, holding her arms down and pinning her legs on the bed. Forcing her head back and mouth open.

He had to chew her food a few times before giving it to her. She had tried to choke on her own food. As she ate her food, slowly, she did not look at him. He always made her look at him instead. He had to know that she was still in there. She was. He had seen her, a small flicker of light, hiding.

She was hiding somewhere inside her own head but she was not dead. So he made sure that she ate the food and slept and bathed. Orana was in the kitchen with the rest of the crew and she slept in the cabin given to them by Isabela. Fenris would curl around Hawke, tucking her head into his neck and holding her to his chest. His hands hover over her, rubbing her back and smoothing her hair when the nightmares came. Orana slept in the bunk above. They would talk when Hawke was sleeping.

Orana held out hope that the new place so far away would help. Fenris knew better. It didn’t matter how far away that you went, the memory was still there. Even the memory of Danarius raping him still caused him to freeze in fear and cry out in the middle of the night. Now the memory of Hawke taking his pain haunted him instead. Tonight though, Hawke would not sleep. Her eyes were wide open, watching the lyrium lines of his neck move as he breathed, and he watched her.

Orana was asleep above them. Hawke traced his collar bone with her boney fingernails. He remember when those nails had raked down his spin and caused him to moan into her mouth. He had held his woman, so brave and powerful, pushed into her and been one with her for one glorious night and he had pushed her away. And now she tried to push him away. But he couldn’t. She had given herself over for him and his freedom.

And she had been cursed for that. A curse that he had reached in and tore from her body with no remorse. A child from her should be one that was given onto her with love and devotion. He had, once, entertained the idea of his child from her. A life where he was happy. That was not an option now, not until she allowed him to touch her once more. And when he was given that privilege again he would bury himself in her so he would never be able to leave her again.

She stopped tracing his collar bone and let her hand rest on his breast bone. She closed her eyes and tucked her face fully into his neck. He smoothed her hair and began to hum. She let him hum songs that he made up to her. Most nights they put her to sleep and kept the nightmares at bay. Tonight was not the case. She pushed herself away from him as he hummed and curled into the wall instead.

He stopped humming and scooted closer to her. He ran his hands over her back and winced at the spinal bones poking into his hands. She kicked out and got him in the shin. He gave a low grunt of pain. He stopped touching her and let his hand rest near her instead. She was shivering, her shoulders heaving as she kept her sobs to herself. He hated how helpless he felt.

She stopped after a while and her breathing evened out. He pulled her closer to him and tucked her body as close to him as he could. If he could hide her inside of him and keep her safe he would. The night dragged on and on. As the pink light of dawn came he could see it was not pink. It was red. The crew was yelling at each other.

Orana leant down and looked at them. He looked at her over his shoulder. They stayed where they were. Orana climbed down from her bunk and sat down with her legs curled into her, watching the door. Fenris only had eyes for Hawke. A knock came. Isabela came in.

“A bad storm is coming. Better stay down here today.” her voice was strained and held no room for any arguments. Fenris didn’t turn as he gave her a low hum of agreement. The door shut once more. Orana placed a small hand on his shoulder.

“I’ll go and get some food for us. Keep her safe, please.”

Fenris touched her smaller hand, giving it a small squeeze, _“Ipsa est dominus meus. Ego iuramento firmastis.”_

She left on swift feet and a quick closing of the door. Hawke slept on, the dried tears on her face crusting over with salt. He wiped them away. She didn’t even wake up. As the sky darkened the ship gave a lurch. It almost threw him for the bed. That did wake her up. She looked around with blurry eyes.

Orana came back in, and the ship gave another lurch. It threw her and the small bag she was carrying into the door she was trying to close. He got up from the bed and helped her up. She thanked him and stumbled to the bunk. Hawke moved as best as she could to make room. Fenris crawled in as well. Orana handed him an apple, and Hawke an orange.

Orana spread out the blanket and placed everything she had grabbed before them. Five apples, four oranges, a thing of bananas, a large bottle of red wine, and three loaves of bread.

“Miss Isabela said the storm would be very bad. I gave the others food too.”

“Thank you, Orana.” Hawke said softly as she rolled the orange between her hands.

“Your brother says he will come by later after he has helped as best as he could on the deck.”

Hawke gave a low mirthless chuckle, “Of course he would. It was just the sort of notion that would appeal to _Carver Hawke_ ; a splendid new order of knighthood with gorgeous new raiment to proclaim it. Even as a boy, Carver loved the idea of knighthood. The bold little boy with wild black hair and laughing eyes a man grown now. One and twenty now and he still likes to _play_ at knighthood.”  Her voice was dull and dead and held no warmth in it. She had Carver had spoken at length but Fenris could tell that she didn’t mean her words.

They ate in silence and the ship rocked back and forth with no remorse at their small bodies inside of it being tossed around. Orana gnawed at her lower lip. Fenris would steady both women as the ship bounced them around. Hawke soon went back to sleep, her face tinted green. Orana was no better. Fenris let her curl into her mistress's back. Fenris watched the storm flash from the porthole upon the wall and door.

The ship lurched high up and then slammed down. He gripped the bed tightly. Hawke gave low groan of pain. Orana held on tightly to Hawke. Fenris got up and was pushed around as he went to the door and then jerked it open. They might need help. He couldn’t help Hawke if they died at sea.

As he was pushed up the stairs and into the wall, the rain came down so thickly it soaked him down to the bone. As he came on deck he could see Carver trying to help Isabela to pull down the mainsail. Anders and Merrill were using their magic to try and keep the worst of the storm from hitting the ship. Fenris stumbled and crashed into everything as he went to help Carver and Isabela. He grabbed onto the rope that they were tugging on and let his anger help him. He glowed like lighting and pulled. The mainsail snapped shut and the other crew members on the ropes tied it off.

As he moved, the world seemed to slow down. The lighting flashed so slowly, lighting up everything just like him. He tugged more ropes taunt and other tied it close. It was so much work and yet his anger let him keep those he loved safe. He heard his name being yelled out. Anders had called out to him. He turned to look at the mage and then he felt it. Lighting struck him in the back.

Everything shook and jumped and smashed together. He could hear screaming. He knew that it was him. As the world faded away, blood pouring from his nose and a pounding in his ears, all he could think about was her. He opened his mouth, even as the others crowded around him and dragged him out of the storm. He croaked out, “Hawke.” Ander was there, pushing healing magic into him and he let his head fall and turn.

Hawke was there, kneeling next to him, and shushing him. Tears falling down her face. He reached for her but she was too far away. He tried to tell her he was sorry but nothing seemed to reach her now. She opened her mouth in a silent scream. He let the world fade away. He jerked awake to the feel of smooth and shaking hands in his hair and a head tucked into his neck humming.

“Hawke” he whispered.

“I’m sorry.” she whimpered out, “I’ve been a horrible person to you. _I’m so sorry_.”

Fenris only turned and wrapped his sore body around her, “We are both sorry for the things we’ve done.”

“I love you.” she sobbed out, holding him tightly.

“I love you too.” he said. She pulled away to look at him and then kissed him until he was breathless. He prayed that if he had died and this was his promised land, he was kissed like this for the whole of eternity.


	9. A man chooses, a slave obeys

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry. I never promised you a happy ending.

Starkhaven was not Kirkwall. That was to say, that where Kirkwall had the coast, and the summit, and the gallows. Starkhaven had rolling hills, deep mines, and a burned down tower of Magi that once housed it many mages. Sebastian was waiting for them when they arrived into port. He had hoped that the long voyage to Starkhaven from Kirkwall would help Hawke. She was a good woman who didn’t deserve what had happened to her. No one deserved what happened to her.

So when the ship pulled into port, he was not expecting everyone to look so angry and miserable. He was also not expecting Hawke to be helping Fenris limp down the gangplank, Orana hovering behind them looking so afraid and tired. Fenris was literally glowing despite the sunny, cloudless day. He was the king now. He had cleaned his court of the vipers who had killed his family. Kings did not jog up a ship's gangplank to help a miserable woman and an elf down to the port. But he was only a king to his people.

These were friends and his friends had seen him do much worse than jog up a gangplank to help Hawke and Fenris. As he placed himself between them and hooking his arms around their waist, he could feel something like electricity running like a flood through Fenris and the sharp jutting bone of a hip from Hawke. He helped them down, and into a warm carriage, Orana sliding in to sit in the seat across from them. They clung to each other and didn’t even look at him. He told the drive to go slow and be careful with his friends. The man only nodded and the horse took off at a very slow and humble pace. As it passed, he saw Anders holding onto the back of the carriage and Sebastian told his head royal guard that Anders was not to be touched at all.

Isabela stood on the port, looking at the ship, speaking with Carver and Merrill. He walked over and joined them.

Isabela was turning her dagger's hilt from one finger to the other and back again as she glared out at the ocean, “She’s worse.”

“Can you blame her?” Carver sighed as he tried to rub away the headache starting in his temples, “She went through hell and lived. And then Fenris tried to help us in that storm and now the poor man is far gone into his past that he keeps bowing to anyone with a staff.”

“He lost his memories again?” Sebastian asked as he came to stand with them. The cool ocean air blowing between their legs to chase the heat of the day way. He had hoped to talk Hawke into going to the beach. A calm place with a gentle, constant, rhythm. No one to bother her or harm. He had hoped that Starkhaven would be a place where she could heal.

Now he felt that those hopes were crushed beneath a mighty heel. The Chantry had often told him that people suffered to grow. Grow to what? He often wondered that when he saw the poor and downtrodden at the Chantry, begging for help from the Maker. He hoped that the Maker had something wonderful for Hawke planned, for she had suffered more than she had deserved. Was it a curse for being born a mage? Or loving an elf?

“After a lightning storm struck him. Hawke saved him with her own magic, but now her mana is very low. Anders is worried about her.” Merrill said as she bit her nails. They were already red and brown from dried blood. There was nothing left to bite.

Sebastian saw the new carriage arrived and told them to come with him. They all turned to look, “Why?” Sebastian asked as he lead them to the carriage. As the door shut they all slumped in their seats and Sebastian could smell the sea breeze and salt clinging to their skin. As though the ocean has kissed them and then set them free.

Carver closed his eyes and Merrill leaned on his broad shoulder. Shoulders that looked so strong now looked weighed down in defeat. He spoke, “My father used to say that a mage is connected to their magic via their soul. Mana is what keeps the two from killing each other. No mana, no buffer, no hope.”

Merrill linked her hands with Carver and Isabela, “My Keeper said the same thing. If her mana drops any lower she will become Tranquil.”

“Without the brand?” Isabela asked as she leaned her head on the window looking out at the city as it passed them.

“Yes. It is rare, but it can happen. They call it Natural Tranquility. A way to protect the mage from becoming an abomination or from killing everyone around them with magic.”

Sebastian clicked his tongue in distaste at the fact that this had happened to other people who had been born mages, “She has Anders. And Fenris. They won’t let her fall into that place.”

“Fenris is a slave now. Back into his old mindset.” Carver said with a sniff.

“A man choses. A slave obeys. And no slave would stay with a mage who might fly off the handle and kill them. Fenris is still with her. Somehow.” Sebastian said with more conviction than he felt at that moment talking to his friends.

“We just have to hope.” Isabela said with a heavy sigh and her eyes closed. Sebastian had never seen her look so tired. And he had seen Isabela at her worst.

“I hope that my sister will get better. But I know better. This isn’t going to end well.” Carver said and a tear rolled down his cheek and into the dirty, black hair of Merrill, who cried silent tears into his shoulders. As Sebastian turned to look at Isabela, he saw twin streaks of black clawing their way down her face. He had nothing to say in regards to his friends tears. He was a king but even he could not stop the tears.

A man chooses his path. A slave obeys the path before him. A king is a slave to his people. A man is a slave to the people he loved. Sebastian was more of a slave than Fenris had ever been. He looked down at his hands and let his friends mourn the loss of a good woman and the love of her life.


	10. There's always a man, there's always a lighthouse.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is a clear law for the abuse we inflict on others. There is no law for the abuse we inflict on ourselves.
> 
> Translations:   
> Our master is ill. Send them away.   
> Dominum nostrum quod aegrotaret. Dimitte illos.

Fenris had been a slave his whole life. He knew what the expect of himself. He was not allowed to look at his master. He was not allowed to leave at night. He was not allowed to eat until he was given permission and above all, he was not allowed to sleep in the same bed as his master. Danarius had made sure that he knew that. His new master was very different.

She was very sick. She flinched at loud noises and she didn’t seem to eat as much as she should. Her magic was very weak as well. But she was much kinder than Danarius had ever been. She allowed him to look at her as much as he wanted, and he enjoyed looking at her to his heart's content. She let him come and go at all times, but he never went far. He had tried to run away from her, once; he had run and run and run.

The giddy feeling of freedom settling into his bones and his mind. He ran until he came to the ocean, the moon swaying on the waves. But then something else creeped into his mind. If he was here, then his master was alone. She couldn’t be alone. Fear had gripped him so tight that he ran twice as fast back to her as he had used to run away from her. When he came back she was at the window, reading, her eyes distant.

He had fallen to her feet and buried his face into her lap, begging her to forgive him for trying to leave. Punish a slave as ungrateful for a kind master such as her. She hadn’t even yelled at him. She had put the book down and she hugged him to her. She was so skinny and so hurt. He could see the scars on her. Scars that shouldn’t have been there.

A voice in his mind told him that it was his fault for her pain and her scars. He knew the voice was right. His new master let him eat as much as he wanted too. He made sure she ate when he did. She never ate much, but she still ate what he gave her. Orana, the other slave, made sure everything was thick and hot. It settled in the stomach and warmed the blood.

The best thing though, was that his master let him sleep in the same bed. Curled close to her. The nightmares left her when he slept near her. He had tried to sleep away from her. But his body jerked awake, eyes wide, and he had went to find her. She had been choking on her own screams from nightmares. He never left after he woke her up.

Her tears caused him more pain than anything else. The King came to her everyday though, taking tea. They talked about nothing. The healer, Anders, was always near them. Like Orana, hovering close enough to be in the room at one loud noise. Carver, his masters younger brother, came at night to talk to her about their younger years and what he had done. He spoke about the Grey Wardens.

A pirate and a small elf came as well. A dwarf with an easy smile and a chuckle that soothed came as well. His master liked him most. He never tried to make her talk or tell him things. He just sat down and wrote and then he would ask her about her opinions. This would have been all well and good, but it wasn’t. The magic faded and shivered each day.

Her eyes slowly dying before him. He would push little things of his lyrium into her at night. It kept the magic gasping inside of her. He couldn’t let her die. Who would they go to once she died? The King? A kind man, true enough, but he was not a mage he wouldn’t know how to treat them.

The healer? He was a mage, but he was like the King. Too much kindness in his soul and something else. The master's brother might take them. But he was a Grey Warden and the order might turn them away from Carver, even if Carver didn’t turn them away to fend for themselves. The pirate and the elf were close. A slave to the pirate?

Perhaps she would take them on, for many hands on a ship is always welcome. The dwarf was their best bet. He would treat like how their master treated them. Kind and as an equal. The days passed and his master never got better or worse. Until she did. Her magic died in the middle of the night and he didn’t even notice.

The dawn came and her eyes were as dead as the winter sun. It killed him inside. She didn’t speak. She didn’t even move. He was a slave. He would take care of his master. Orana came in as he combed out her wet hair from a bath.

She asked him what had happened. He told her and she left the room with tears in her eyes. She came back to tell him that the others wanted to see her. Fenris shook his head as he helped her eat her morning porridge.

“Dominum nostrum quod aegrotaret. Dimitte illos.” he told her.

Orana stormed over and slapped him. He dropped the spoon into the porridge. His master didn’t even seem to notice anything. Orana shook him as she spoke, “She is not ill! She is worse than that and we need to figure out how to fix this before it is too late!”

“It is too late.” his master whispered.

Fenris knew that she spoke the truth but he also knew that there was nothing they could do. Tranquility could not be undone. Even when it was done to yourself. 


End file.
